Blood for Oil
by C-Puff
Summary: A series of murders start to happen in Luminopolis, murders where all the victims are robots. Spurred by worry for his friend, Ratchet and his best friend Clank get themselves involved in trying to find the murderer, only to find that murder is only the means to an end for the one responsible, and his real plans are far, far worse. I hate summaries.
1. Crime scene 1, take 1

_Despite being back at work, I decided to start this story :) Don't expect a fast update schedule though as I am very busy at the moment. I did want to start this story though. I am still trying to recapture that magic I had a few years ago while I was writing 'Wild Animals', so I'm going to keep trying as far as writing is concerned. I wasn't too happy with Breaking and Entering, so I'm trying again :)_

_Just some basic things; I haven't played FFA/Q-Force yet so this story takes place after All4One. It's also not in continuity with Breaking and Entering and is a fresh story. There's no Yaoi either in case you're worried about that sort of thing. Chances are this story is going to be a little more violent than the last, but I really don't see myself going up to an M so don't worry about that either.  
_

_Anyway! Enough talking! I give you my new story and I hope you will enjoy it. Please give comments and feedback as often that's the only thing keeping a story going with me. Thank you for helping me continue to try and grow as a storyteller.  
_

__**Xxxxxx**

Everyone has their hobbies and side-projects they entertain themselves with when they are not occupied with their obligations. I have heard some people who go on inconceivably dangerous searches for a rare item they might be collecting, or perhaps they take up grooming and breeding some aristocratic pet that no level-headed individual would consider buying. Ratchet is someone who has managed to find some kind of income from his favourite hobbies, being the invention of rather baffling gadget as well as the more practical job of mechanic, mostly focusing on starships.

I myself, work in television.

I can not remember how the initial idea came about for a television series with me in the lead, but it was a very enjoyable two seasons that ended up being much more popular than I would have anticipated. However as obligation reared its head again my friend and I had to leave the galaxy for Solana and the show had to be put on hold.

I admit, I would sometimes be nostalgic for that brief period of time I spent as the quipping secret agent, and so when I was approached by my former agent asking if I would be interested in a guest appearance on the network's new show it did not take much for me to agree almost immediately. I was slightly disappointed when Ratchet opted to remain at our apartment for the duration of the shoot but then, he did not seem to enjoy being part of the production. I do not fully understand why but seeing as we were shooting the episode in Luminopolis it was not as if I was going to be far from home.

"No no no!" Mr. Goldestar yelled once again, slapping the pages of script to the floor as he got up from his director's seat. "How many times do I have to tell you?! This is the moment where you realise that despite your differences, You _need_ Secret Agent Clank to complete your mission! I wanna _feel_ that realisation in your face and all you're giving me is a look as if you've just blown a fuse!"

"I'm sorry~" My bubbly co-star flashed the director a childish smile, as if this alone would get her out of trouble. "But it's like, really hard remembering all that! Can't we like, just have Mr. Clank burst in and like, save me in the nick of time and I can be all, ya know, happy to see him?"

"You're suppose to be the strong female lead!" The director yelled back, slapping the retrieved script again. "What kind of female spy is gonna just sit and wait for her _man_ to come and save her?! Even IF she's a rookie?!"

The fembot giggled from where she hang, suspended by a rope above a slight ditch. Clever camera angles making it seem miles deep. She turned her girlish laughing in my direction. "Did you hear that? You're 'My man'!"

I rolled my eyes at this and slumped in place slightly. I was waiting for my cue to come in and free the young woman from the situation but so far the scene had not even gotten to the point where I had to make my entrance yet. The young lady, an up and coming robotic pop-idol, was clearly not actress material. If not her seemingly low intelligence, then her sheer lack of talent made this abundantly clear.

Mr. Goldestar gave a drawn out noise, halfway between a groan and a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, slumping back into his chair and waving a hand at her. "Look just... just try it again ok? And remember, at this point you _don't_ like Agent Clank yet?! You got that?"

"Alrighty!" She smiled enthusiastically, more at me than at him. I ignored her, pretending to be more fascinated by the fixture she'd been tied up with.

"Ok, from the top every-one!" The exasperated director slumped back in his chair, waving a hand lazily in the air. " 'Hidden Pistol' Show 104 reel 1, take 15!"

The marker was called, action yelled and the scene was clacked. I hesitantly got myself ready to make my entrance, hoping I would actually be able to do something today rather than watch the young lady (whose name is Aleesa Grease I might add) kill the art of acting.

As the scene unfolded in front of me I waited patiently. Miss Grease struggled against her bonds rather pathetically, probably to prevent herself from getting scraped by the rope, as she grunted in effort rather unconvincingly. It was all I had not to put my face in my hands. Mr. Goldestar did not call cut though. I suspected that perhaps he wanted to just wrap up this part of the episode so that we could put it to rest. His hopes were dashed however when the robot idol stopped her squirming and looked directly at him.

"Uhm, hello? Mr. Gold Star?"

"Cut!" He yelled rather violently, putting his head in his hands. "What is it NOW Miss Grease?"

"Well, like, I just wanted to ask. Can't we uhm, ya know, start finishing up? Only, I told this erm... this friend of mine I'd like, meet him after the shoot and it's starting to get late and like, I was wondering if we're almost, you know, done?"

"Sure! Why not!" Mr. Goldestar said as he went red in the face. He stood up, throwing his hands in the air, sending script pages flying everywhere. "In fact, let's call it a day people! Every-one! Get these cameras out of here! And Somebody call 'lunch'!"

A bustle of activity erupted as stage hands ran to release Miss Grease and she gave a happy squeal at getting to meet her date early. Equipment started getting moved around haphazardly and people with clipboards started arguing with each other. I shook my head to myself as I started walking towards the rather unglued looking director who had started yelling at someone who had handed him an electronic read-out.

"I _told_ you already! We're moving the date of _THIS _shoot over 2 days so that we can focus on the big rescue scene! Didn't Spencer already go over this with you? Where the hell is he? _Spencer?! Where the hell are you?!"_

"Excuse me." I spoke up, causing both men to look down at me. "Sorry for interrupting, but I assume I may return to my trailer for now?"

Mr. Goldestar groaned but gave an exasperated nod. "Yeah, fine fine. I'll send you a schedule update as soon as I find Spencer."

"I will be returning to my apartment tonight however." I reminded him. "So I would prefer to know what we will be doing tomorrow as soon as you are able."

"You wanna know what's going on tomorrow? Great! Join the club!" The director threw his hands up again. "I'm sure we'd all be _very happy_ to know what the heck we're all suppose to be doing! In fact, ya wanna know so bad? Try and find that good for nothing assistant of mine and tell him to get his metal ass back here so I can hear just exactly _how_ screwed our deadline is becoming because of our defective star!"

"If I see him, I will send him your way." I said, raising an eye at him as I turned to leave. I heard him launch into a fresh tirade against one of the best boys as I walked in the direction of my trailer.

I enjoyed working in television, but I had to admit, the rose-tinted glasses of nostalgia had made me forget what the crush of a deadline tended to do to those in charge of a production. No doubt Spencer, the director's assistant, accountant and at times legal consultant, had seen the oncoming storm of frustration and had gone to do some paperwork in his trailer, out of the line of fire.

Thinking this, I turned to look at the other trailer which was currently used by the robot in question. I could see the light was on through the small window next to the door. At first I thought I would leave him alone and let him enjoy his moment of peace before facing the enraged director, but thinking it over I decided remaining absent might prove to be more dangerous to his health in the long run. I turned and walked over to his door, hopping the steps before knocking.

There was no reply, but that was not uncommon. Spencer was the kind of person to get himself completely absorbed in whatever writing he was doing and could often be deaf to everything else. I knocked again just on principle before I pushed the door open and walked inside the makeshift office.

Spencer was indeed there. He was lying on the floor right in the doorway, as if he had been standing and facing it just before he fell. The linoleum's colour was indiscernible as most of the floor was covered in what I can only describe as gore. The thick, partially congealed soup of oil and hydraulic fluid covered the entire scene. It'd sprayed against the back wall I was facing, and I half registered seeing droplets of it on the ceiling. But mostly, it had pooled around the metallic frame that once was Spencer.

The metallic casing of his back had been torn open, coils of wires and shards of broken sisterboards jutted out of the wound. Several more lay strewn around, as if they'd erupted from the man like a volcano before falling wherever they wanted, while others appeared to have been grabbed and forcibly pulled out of the man.

He lay, an entanglement of jagged metal and oil-encrusted cables in front of me, a cracked glass eye staring lightlessly at nothing.

I ran for help, knowing it was far too late.

**Xxxxxx**

****_Reviews are love.  
_


	2. On Set Disruptions

_Update time! Normally I wait until I've written 2 chapters ahead of what I upload to make sure I finish a fanfic, but seeing as I'm working most of the time That would take too long. SO it's up to you guys to keep me invested in this story ok? :) I'm counting on you guys!_

_I don't own Ratchet, Clank or any of the characters, planets or other dealios._

**Xxxxxx**

The apartment felt quiet, which was weird because Clank isn't exactly the loudest guy to live with in the first place. But somehow, without him around it seemed more quiet than usual. It was annoying. I tried filling up the silence by focusing on some projects I'd been ignoring. It worked at first, but after about 2 days I was too aware of how empty the place was to ignore it anymore. As I said, not that the place was any noisier than when Clank was around, but somehow there was still a difference.

If you wanna be technical I guess you could say I was lonely. I'd deny it if you said it to my face, but let's face it; I get lonely way too easily than what's considered healthy. Besides it was kinda stupid to feel gloomy about it when the guy was still in the same city. If I really wanted to, I could crash the film shoot and say hi, but my loneliness hadn't reached the point where I'd be willing to visit yet. If I did, there was a good chance someone there would talk me into putting myself in front of a camera and doing a ridiculous cameo of some kind. If not Clank himself then the director or some stage hand would suggest it. I was not the acting type. I don't really enjoy looking like an idiot in front of other people, and trust me, the second you put me in front of a camera, that's what'll happen.

So, I just spent my time either in our hangar or in the living room, slowly creating an artistic pattern on the coffee table with oil and scratches. I'd been given a job working one some guy's land-speeder and had decided sitting in front of the TV while working on the engine was a lot more fun than hiding away in the hangar, especially when I was home alone. I was more than likely gonna get flack from my pal when he got home, but I didn't care. I think maybe it was my way of throwing an immature tantrum at being left alone. Whatever the reason though, I sat in front of the screen, carefully lining up the dismantled engine's pieces in front of me.

The Tv was usually on one of 3 channels; the science channel, Torque, the channel dedicated to Starships and other mechanics, or one of the news channels. It'd been on the news when I turned it on and I wasn't paying enough attention to turn it to one of the others, so the whole day I sat half-listening to whatever was going on in the Polaris galaxy.

At the moment the news reporter was talking about sport or something. I really didn't care enough to listen, I'm not a sports guy. She was halfway through a story about some or other ball player getting traded to some or other planet's team when she went quiet for a few moments, frowning into her headset.

I raised an eyebrow at the TV as I busied my hands with an intake manifold, watching the reporter nod to whoever was updating her. The holographic display behind her, which'd been showing the sports player's face, adjusted to its headline readout instead. She turned back to the camera, folding her hands together on the desk, business like.

"_We've received some breaking news. Our station's been informed that there has been an assault on a robot working on the set of the new show; 'Hidden Pistol'. The show's production crew is currently on Igliak shooting for an upcoming episode when one of the crew was discovered severely damaged in his Trailer."_

My hands stopped working almost instantly. I felt myself raise in my seat as the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

'Relax' I told myself, trying get grip. 'If it was Clank they'd have said so. There's no way they'd keep that a secret if a big name star and galactic hero was attacked. It's probably someone else.'

I got my initial shock under control, but I was far from reassured. I pushed the manifold aside and got up from the couch, walking over to set the TV to its 'call' mode so I could hear for myself what the hell was going on. I was just about to reach out and change the setting when the reporter stopped talking again and placed her hand to her ear before straightening.

_'We've just received an update that the crime on the 'Hidden Pistol' set was not an assault, but in fact a homicide.'_

It felt as if the blood in my arm froze solid, stopping my hand from pressing the buttons on the TV's control panel. My gaze shot up at the screen in disbelief.

_''There is little information regarding the incident at this time, but if on scene sources are correct, the murder appears to have been committed early this morning on the production set. The identity of the victim has not been made public yet, but we have gotten in contact with one of our field reporters who will be giving us an update on the situation as soon as-'_

I pressed the button, cutting her off. I could feel my hands and shoulders trembling as I hurriedly dialled the number Clank had left me in case I needed to get hold of him. I had to enter it twice before my hands managed to put it in properly. I stood back, staring anxiously at the black screen in front of me as I waited for my call to be answered. My hands were sweating.

'Would you calm down you idiot?' my inner voice berated me as I waited. 'He's fine. He's perfectly fine. I can feel it in my gut.'

My own words did little to comfort me as my call was met with nothing but the dull tone of the line being busy. I dialled the number again, stabbing the buttons with a finger harder than what was necessary. I waited again, but it was useless. The 'busy' tone merely droned again as soon as a connection was made.

'Everybody must be calling.' I thought as I got to my feet and marched out of the room. 'Clank's not the only robot on the set who's got friends.'

I took the stairs 2 at a time as I ran to the hangar, not even bothering to lock up behind me as I jogged over to Aphelion and clambered into her cockpit, setting a direct course for Clank's film shoot.

_Is everything alright?_ The ship asked with rare concern.

"We need to get to Clank's film shoot as fast as you can go without getting us arrested." I said, surprised by how steady I managed to keep my voice. "Something bad's happened."

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the set of the show was in completely chaos when I got there. I landed Aphelion away from the scene and covered the last few blocks at a brisk run. I'd managed to cool down on the fly over, but I still felt wound up. Then again that was probably a normal reaction to bad news when you didn't know the whole story. The only thing that was still fuelling my paranoia was the fact that Clank hadn't called me to let me know what'd happened. This had me kinda worried, but I forced my imagination to kill whatever imagery it wanted to show me as I focused instead on just getting there.

The place was swarming with Igliak's Planetary Defence Squad. It seemed I wasn't the only person trying to find out what the heck was going on. A nicely sized crowd was trying to get some answers out of the cops who responded with flat, emotionless answers. The entire film set was cordoned off with holographic tape, set to sound an alarm if some-one broke past them. The squad's ships and carriers were parked all over the place, red and blue lights flashing in a steady rhythm over the gathered mass of people, as if to remind them not to try anything stupid while they were around.

I was gonna need to get in to the set, but before that I wanted to try to get a better idea of what was going on. I joined the crowd of people and worked my way through them until I was close enough to the set's entrance to hear what was being said. I kept myself hidden behind the guys in the very front though. Despite rather cool relations, I wasn't very good friends with galactic authorities, and that in turn trickled down to the various Planetary Defence organisations. I guess I can't blame them too much. I'd be jumpy too if some-one lived in my city with enough firepower to turn most of the planet into a smouldering crater. My occasional joy-riding and smuggling of illegal ship parts and weapons probably wasn't helping my popularity with them either I suppose.

Most of the other people in the crowd were reporters, a few of which were accompanied by a levitating camera which would flip its attention back and forth between them and the guarded entrance of the set. Some merely had electronic notebooks or recorders which they held out at arm's length towards the two oversized cops guarding the break in the holographic tape. A third cop was standing a few feet away, muttering into his earpiece at some-one. I had a feeling he was just pretending to avoid having to deal with the gossip-hungry crowd.

"How did the murderer get on the closed set?!" One reporter to my left was trying to yell over the others, pushing herself forward. "Was there no security stationed in the area?!"

"Why did it take so long for the victim to be discovered?!" another tried to grab the attention away from her rival. "Did the fact that the victim was a synthetic have anything to do with the delay?!"

One of the large squad members unfolded his arms and held up his hands to try to shush the crowd although it had little effect. "As I keep saying; we can't give any solid statement at this time as it may interfere with our investigation. However rest assured that Planetary Defence is treating this robocide with as much importance and diligence as they would any murder."

"What about Miss Grease?! Do you think she might be a target for whoever committed this crime?!" A Valkyrian reporter called out, muscling her way closer to the front, shoving me into a robot who was buys writing notes at lightning fast speed on his tablet.

"Again, we can not give any information at this time." The cop repeated with an obvious grumble. "Miss Gears is safe and being guarded by members of our squad. That is all I can give as a solid fact."

More questions were yelled out as people tried to push themselves forward to get a better angle on the guards. I backed out of the crowd and started walking away from the scene, hoping the cops would keep their focus on the crowd and not decide I was suspicious looking. I didn't learn that much, but I was anxious to find a way in and see if Clank was ok. It sounded like the defence squad were doing their best to seem efficient, probably to try and cover up something like this happening in a supposedly safe city they were in charge of protecting. That meant I'd have to be careful once I got inside not to get caught or draw attention to myself. It seemed The pop-star-of-the-week, Aleesa Grease, was not the one who'd been killed. That was good news. If this thing'd happened while they were shooting it'd mean Clank was with her, so it was likely he was fine too. But I still had to see it for myself.

I also knew from a few after-shoot calls that Aleesa was a pain in the neck to deal with and was most likely using this situation as a way to get some attention and was probably making a scene. Hopefully this meant the cops would be distracted by her, but I wasn't gonna bank on that.

I circled the Squad tape until I found a point where it was fixed to the wall of a building. The building itself was sleek, with high windows and jutting lights all over it. This _was_ luminopolis after all. I walked around it until I found a light fixture closer to the ground. Taking a moment to make sure I wasn't being watched, I made a run for the wall. I jumped, landed my feet against it, then bounced myself off in the opposite direction, gaining enough height to grab onto the jutting light-fixture as I went.

From there it was almost too easy. I cut a path diagonally up against the building, jumping from light to light until I could move myself around the corner, then climbed my way back down, finally landing on the ground again on the other side of the tape.

I stood up, dusting off my hands and the front of my shirt. I stopped for a moment when I realised my gloves were still coated with oil from my engine fixing and I was wearing my work overalls. I probably looked like some kind of janitor. I smirked as I realised this might actually work for me as I started walking among the various spotlights, cameras and more coiled up wires than I cared to count. It was hard to be missed, being both a universally recognised hero as well as the last of a species, but I've often noticed in my life that a good mixture of being small, dirty, and dressed for manual labour made most people not give you so much as a second glance. I still tried to avoid any members of the defence squad I noticed though, and made sure not to make eye contact with any of the jittery looking crew as they ran around, yelling excitedly at each other.

I made my way to the trailers, ignoring the larger ones which were used more for housing multiple crew members and instead headed for the smaller but shinier group. Along the way I noticed another security tape sectioning off one of the more important looking trailers. There was a large group of Defence Squad members moving around and I could see some of their Investigation units moving in and out of it, as well as a small hovering ship with 'C.S.I.' flickering across its side in a holographic display, switching through some of the most common galactic languages.

'Must be where the murder happened.' I said with an outward sigh of relief. The trailer wasn't Clank's. I gave the area a wide breadth, still not completely satisfied until I saw my pal with my own eyes.

I finally reached his trailer. It was smaller than the one he had on his own show a part of me noticed. For some reason this annoyed me slightly, but maybe it was just a general bad mood I'd developed from this whole thing. I gave the door a knock but there wasn't any answer. When I tried to push it open it turned out to be locked. I walked along the side of the place, looking in through one of its small side-windows. The lights were off inside, but I could see well enough to know it was empty.

I sighed to myself as I walked back to the door, sitting down on the steps leading up to it. I rested my elbows on my knees, deciding to wait for my pal to come back. I wanted to keep looking for him, but I'd pushed my luck enough with all the cops around. If they found me waiting here and decided they wanted to ask what the heck I doing it was probably gonna be much easier explaining I was waiting for Clank than if I was snooping around the set. Besides, as far as this whole ugly business was concerned, I really didn't care who killed who or why. My focus was on Clank right now, and no amount of curiosity was gonna distract me at this moment.

I sat in silence, running through the bare snippets of information I had at the moment to try to put together a picture of what was going on while I waited. I felt my tail swishing back and forth impatiently as I did so. I wish it wouldn't do that.

Time marched by at a ridiculously slow pace. I stayed where I was, shifting my position every now and then and watching whatever stage hand or Squad member walk past. No-one gave me so much as a sideways look. I sighed to myself again, this time in frustration. I was on my last nerve. If Clank didn't show up soon I was starting to consider going to look for him, or cornering one of these stuck-up cops and asking them a few damn questions.

"Oh!" a surprised voice interrupted my thoughts, as if on cue.

I sat up and turned to see my pal a few feet away. He'd come to a stop when he saw me but picked up the pace again. I felt myself break into a wide smile as my shoulders dropped. I hadn't realised how much tension Id been holding in them.

"Hey pal." I dusted myself off as I stood up, shooting him a grin. "Cops giving you a hard time?"

"Not too much." He answered. He was looking past me at his trailer door, then at the steps, then at my face again. "I did not expect to see you here Ratchet. I thought the Planetary Defence Squad had prevented any-one from entering the set."

I waved him off, stepping aside so he could unlock his door. "It was ok. Where've you been though? I've been waiting for almost 2 hours."

He reached up, inputting a numeric code and pushing the door open. He blinked at me over his shoulder as he did. "The Defence Squad had some routine questions they needed to ask pertaining to the incident. As I was the one who had discovered the victim they needed whatever information I could give them, which is why it took so long. You have been sitting here for 2 hours?"

I shrugged as I followed him inside. "Yeah, I was starting to get impatient."

"What are you even doing here?" He asked as he walked across the ridiculously tidy room to a cupboard next to a low counter.

I sat down on the single couch in the small living space. "I heard about what happened on the news. They didn't have a lot of info though so I decided to come check things out for myself."

"You could have gotten yourself into trouble." He said, although there was a chuckle in his voice. "I have some tea if you are interested."

I nodded. "Hey you know me. I'm not exactly a patient guy."

"Says the person who sat on my porch for 2 hours." He said with a rather annoying tone of voice.

I pulled a face, deciding to change the subject. "So what about this whole murder thing? You said you found the guy who got offed? The news really didn't say much of anything about it."

"Yes." He said, his tone turning serious again. "Mr. Spencer, the Director's assistant was the one who had been attacked. There was little to be done by the time I found him sadly. Poor fellow. He was a decent robot. A little neurotic perhaps but a good person."

I took the mug he offered me, blowing on it as I listened. "Any ideas about the guy who did it?"

"None at all unfortunately." He went back to the cupboard, pulling out a small can of some or other robotic drink for himself. "I have not seen nor heard of any suspicious people on set, and most of the designated crew and actors were busy at the shoot when the crime happened."

"So whoever did it is still around?" I frowned at him over my mug.

"I doubt they are still on the set, but there has not been any news of any-one being found who does not belong here. I believe they must have left right after committing their crime before any of us even knew what had happened."

I hummed, taking a sip of my tea. It had a slight metallic taste to it, probably from the mug Clank had used but I drank it anyway. Clank sat himself next to me on the couch, drinking from his own can. We sat in silence for a few moments as I digested this new information. I didn't like the fact that the killer got away. Not at all.

"Any idea why this guy of your's would've been killed?" I asked after a few minutes.

He shook his head. "I can not say I do, but I did not know much about him personally. However, when I first discovered him it seemed to me as if something had been removed from him."

I raised an eyebrow at him through my frown. " 'removed'. You mean like a piece of hardware or something?"

"Perhaps. At least that is how it seemed to me."

I pulled a face, shifting uncomfortably. "Great."

I drained the last of my mug before getting up to put it away. "Are you free to go or are these defence guys gonna want to keep you around a little longer?"

"I believe they are done, for now." He said as he followed me. "They said that if they had any further questions that they would contact me."

"Great." I said again without the sarcasm. "Let's go home then."

"Myself included?" He frowned, tapping at his chin. "I am not so sure I can. After all, we are not done with the shoot and the director has not said anything about-"

"Clank. Pal. A guy's been murdered." I gave him a reproachful smile. "I don't think a TV show is gonna be the director's biggest problem right now." I turned, walking back to the door. "If they need you back they'll call, but I don't think anyone's gonna care where you are tonight if the cops are done with you."

"I suppose you are right." He nodded in defeat as he followed me. "Mr. Goldestar may be annoyed that I have left the set though. It would probably be better if I stay in my trailer as agreed."

"Too bad." I said with enough firmness for it to be clear that I wasn't kidding around. "I really don't think their precious show and your contract is what's important at the moment. If they have a problem with any robots leaving the set for the night after one of them was killed then I think it might be time you reconsider this whole 'guest star' thing."

We were quiet for a while as we walked towards the set's entrance, Clank staring at me the whole way.

"You were worried about me." He said eventually.

"What the heck did _you_ think?" I scoffed at him.

He didn't raise the issue again, although I noticed him smiling at himself as we passed by the crowd of reporters, dodging their questions as we headed to where I'd parked Aphelion.

**Xxxxxx**

_In case you're curious, the fic is going to jump back and forth between Ratchet and Clank's POVs. I don't like writing whose POV I'm writing from, so hopefully it'll be pretty clear at the start of each chapter._

_Please let me know of any stupidity in this chapter, I didn't edit it as much as I usually do._

_Thanks for reading. Please R & R._


	3. More Bad News

_Sorry for the delay guys. I'm at work most of the time and when I get home I just want to play video games, so this is taking longer than usual. I hope you will be patient with me :)_

_Don't own anyone. _

**Xxxxxx**

Ratchet's foresight regarding Mr. Goldestar's concerns turned out to be right on the mark. Although I was concerned that I would cause some inconvenience by leaving the film set for the night, no-one called to ask where I was. I had originally planned to return the next morning, but before I could leave our apartment, we received a call from one of Mr. Goldestar's secretaries informing us that until further notice, the shoot was on hiatus. I know enough to know that whenever a show is shelved, even for a brief amount of time, it does not bode well for its future. However, as I was only to have a guest appearance on the show I did not have much personal attachments to the project.

It also seemed like the Planetary Defence Squad were satisfied with the information I had given them, because they did not contact me again either. Ratchet and I still made a point of keeping up with any news on Mr. Spencer's murder through local news for the next handful of days, but otherwise things eventually slipped back into a state of normality.

The murderer still hadn't been found, and from what information we got from the news reports, no-one was any closer as to finding out a motive or a suspect. I will admit this had me concerned for a while, but as the days passed on I forgot about my worries and busied myself with my day to day routine.

The only thing that prevented me from forgetting the event entirely was Ratchet. He thinks I can not tell when something is on his mind, but I did notice the light concern the murder was still causing him. Or rather, the fact that the killer had not been caught was causing him concern. I did not bring it up though. Although I did not like seeing unnecessary anxiety in my friend, I understood it was coming from a good place. It would not take long for him to calm down and put this behind him.

Or at least, that would have been how things went had the situation not changed.

Normally I am the first one to wake up. Mostly because Ratchet has a bad habit of staying awake until 3am either playing holonet games or working out some bolt of inspiration that had struck him in the night regarding an invention. However, when I woke up on this particular morning I was rather surprised to see he was not in the room. I did not think too much of it though as I climbed down from the top bunk and made my way towards the bathroom to make myself presentable.

As I passed by the living room however I caught a glimpse of him sitting on the couch with a frown on his face. I stopped, turning to blink at him in confusion before walking over. He was sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers laced over his mouth as he frowned at the television angrily.

Turning to the screen to see what he was watching I was hit with the headlines scrolling along the bottom of it as a rather grim-faced anchorwoman gave her report.

_Second Robot Slaying discovered. Planetary Defence suspect same culprit as 'Hidden Pistol' murder._

I kept my eyes fixed on the television as I backed up, climbing onto the couch myself to watch the report.

"It happened last night." Ratchet caught me up, not turning to look at me as he spoke. "Apparently the guy was an older model who ran an all-robot convenience store downtown."

"It says that the authorities suspect the same person that attacked Mr. Spencer?" I asked, recalling that the director's assistant was also an older robot.

Ratchet gave a stiff nod. "As they put it; 'similarities at the crime scene' makes them think so, yeah."

"In other words it was most likely also a rather violent scene." I voiced my logic.

"They're not saying it, but yeah. Chances are that's what they mean." he grumbled.

"I will get us something to eat." I said, getting down from the couch again. Experience had taught me long ago that Ratchet had a habit of neglecting food when he was focusing on something. "Keep watching the report and let me know if there are any new developments."

He gave a nod as I left the room, eyes still fixed on the screen. I shook my head to myself as I went. We had to have bad news just as he was starting to relax again didn't we?

* * *

All possibilities of being productive that day went out the window as we remained on the couch. The remains of breakfast were stacked at one end of the coffee table while a second cup of tea and something more palatable for myself sat in front of us. Ratchet had stopped glaring at the television as if it had insulted him and was now sitting back and listening to anything new that might be mentioned. Every now and then we lost focus and instead discussed our own theories on what had happened. I will admit it was perhaps a bit of a morbid way of spending the morning, considering the events we were talking about, but I would be lying if I said I did not find some small enjoyment in it.

A mystery, even ones involving crime, were very much like a puzzle, and I always find myself entertained applying my logic to things and trying to find solutions or, at the very least, theories.

But this was only my way of thinking. Ratchet, although eagerly discussing things with me, did not seem as light-heartedly intrigued by this as I was. I admit I did not fully understand this. The events at the film set were one thing as I was somewhat involved in what had happened there, but this new attack had nothing to do with me in any way, and yet he was still showing unease about this. I would have liked to question him about his mindset, but I knew better than to ask. He wouldn't answer me if I did, and most likely would just deny he had any anxiety.

What I _did_ say however was this; "Perhaps the authorities will be able to find some tangible evidence at this new crime scene that will help them determine who is doing these things."

Ratchet gave a nod at this, picking up his tea and blowing on it, despite the fact that it was most likely lukewarm by now. "That'd be a nice break. I really don't like the idea of some racist nutcase running around unchecked."

I blinked at him. "I get the 'nutcase' part but what do you mean 'racist'? I do not understand."

He turned and gave me a pointed look, as if that alone would somehow give me an answer. When he saw that I honestly was not following he put down his mug again, shifting a little on the couch to face me better.

"It could just be a weird coincidence, but after all the crap we've seen in the past I don't really believe in them anymore. The first guy that was killed was the robot who worked on your show right?"

"Well, it was not technically _my_ show..."

He waved a hand at me. "Whatever. The first guy was killed while working on a show featuring a mostly robot cast and is known for being a kinda sorta spin-off of your first show, which was a _big_ 'robot role model' type thing right?"

I gave him a dubious look, unsure of where he was going with his. "Yes?"

"And the next robot that ends up getting killed, probably by the same person, is a guy who runs a store that sells products and stuff _just_ for robots." He gave a smile that seemed rather worried. "If you ask me, that's not painting too great a picture of the guy doing these things."

"Hmm." I considered it for a moment. "I am not so sure I agree with your logic Ratchet. Perhaps this could be true if you just looked at the second crime, but in the case of the first, if this truly was a person with a vendetta against synthetics, would it not make more sense to attack an actor or actress of the show and not simply a director's assistant?"

"Maybe." He frowned to himself thoughtfully as he turned to look at the television screen again. "But I can't help but feel there's some kinda connection there."

"I would think the fact that both of the victims were older models would be a clearer similarity than some conspiracy theory." I replied.

"Huh? Really?" He turned back to me, ears perking slightly.

"Indeed. It might also just be a coincidence, but Mr. Spencer was an older robot as well."

Ratchet nodded, thinking over this new information. I noticed some of the tension in him subconsciously ease up a little, although why I was not sure. The anchorwoman seemed to have finally given up on the story and had moved on to other topics worthy of headlines. None of them seemed particularly interesting at the moment however.

As the silence between us dragged out it seemed the topic was finally put to rest for the time being. I got down from the couch and moved to clean up our cutlery from breakfast. I noticed as I did so with some annoyance that Ratchet had been doing his mechanic work in the living room again. Several new stains had seeped into the Florana Darkwood table as well as a few more scuff marks added to the collection. I did not bring it up but I made an irritable noise at him as I left the room. The sideways glance told me he knew what my problem was. He flashed me a sheepish grin as I went. I could only shake my head.

* * *

Time passed uneventfully for a few days. The news kept updating the stories on the now double homicide but I had grown disinterested. There was very little new information and the reports were merely rehashing the old headlines of what had happened or were simply releasing a statement by an official put in charge of the situation to try and quell the growing public concern, particularly the robot community. Although I was eager to hear of the culprit's capture, I felt that the growing outrage was perhaps a little unfounded. I agree that my fellow robots had every right to be concerned for their own safety, but I did not see how badgering authorities was going to improve matters. I myself did not get involved. Besides, I seem to be a bit of an oddity as I spent my time mostly in the company of organics rather than other synthetics. Not that organics have ever proven to be more rational however.

Speaking of which, Ratchet was not calming down as much as I had expected him to in the days that followed. He kept up with the news routinely to hear of any new discoveries and at one stage he had called some of our more influential friends, trying to find some more information. Otherwise he passed his time as he normally would, but a closer observation showed the increased tension in him. Even when he was sitting still, drawing out plans and schematics, the erratic twitch of his tail-end betrayed his state of mind.

Perhaps he was merely reflecting the mindset of the city at the moment. I felt myself to be more relaxed than he was, but I am not as oblivious as I sometimes appear to be and was also eager to hear of a resolution to the unpleasant events that had occurred.

Despite the tension in the air, time passed on normally. Things had been slow lately, when in comparison to our usual endeavourers. But it was a change I welcomed, and eventually we slipped into a comfortable routine.

It was for this reason that I was confused when, about a week later, I once again woke up to find the room empty apart from myself. I climbed to the floor and once again made my way to the living room, expecting to find Ratchet there. However it was just as empty as the bedroom. I thought perhaps he had woken up early to work on a project he was going to be paid for in the hangar and focused instead on getting ready for the day. After freshening myself up I went to remind him to eat something, but found the hangar to be just as empty as the rest of the house. Or rather, emptier. Aphelion appeared to be missing as well.

I did not think much of it, going back upstairs to the main apartment. After getting a meal I made myself comfortable in front of the large screen and turned it on. It was currently on one of the news channels, however this did not surprise me. It seemed to have become the default channel as of late.

"_-can only be described as an act of a severely disturbed individual. The Planetary Defence are urging citizens of Luminopolis to steer clear of the scene of the crime and allow them to do their jobs. A statement by the head of Defence has been promised once sufficient evidence and information has been gathered. For those just joining us; another attack against some of Luminopolis' robotic citizens occurred just over an hour ago at the residential building on Sector 4-H Sub-level A. The building is known for having a large number of Robotic families living there and is in what was until today considered to be a relatively safe neighbourhood. Very little information is known at this time, but a witness on the scene has reported that another violent crime has been committed. Although details are still unclear, we do know that this is the third crime in what seems to be becoming a series of similar attacks, however in this instance more than one individual fell victim to the assailant. It has not been made public as to how many people were injured but we will remain on scene to..."_

I stared in quiet shock as I listened to the broadcast. I admit that I did reluctantly expect there to be another attack at some point in the future, but to hear that the person responsible would have the gall to attack multiple people at once in a residential area was still a startling discovery. I was also feeling a bit of unease at the report of the location. It was not within walking distance of our own home, but it was a little too close for personal comfort in my opinion. I watched the rest of the broadcast as I finished my breakfast but information was still very scarce at this point in time. The anchorwoman mostly just repeated the initial broadcast as she waited for any more information.

As my mind started to drift I again wondered where Ratchet was. No doubt he would find this news troubling. As I thought this, something occurred to me. I climbed off the couch and headed down the passage to our front door. We normally tended to keep it locked, but Ratchet had installed extra security measures a short while ago if we should ever need them. Nothing too flamboyant. There was an added numerical lock as well as a circuit gate requiring Ratchet's Decrypter to unlock. We hadn't need to use them as of yet.

Both of them were currently active.

I dropped my shoulders and shook my head to myself at this as the pieces of the mystery fell into place. I turned and headed back for the living room, wondering if my daily documentary series on the scientific development of the first intergalactic communication network was on yet. One of these days Ratchet would have to learn how to reign in his tendency to react rashly when he was upset by something. I just hoped he was not going to get himself in trouble with Planetary Defence when he arrived at the crime scene, but even as I hoped this I knew better than to expect him to arrive home without an aggravated escort and a fine to pay.

**Xxxxxx**

_I realise this is kinda just a 'filler' chapter, but it was important to slow the pace down before stuff started happening again. :D_

_Please give feedback, it keeps me motivated. Thanks!_


	4. Broken Parts

_Thank you very much for the feedback guys. I really appreciate it a lot! Originally this chapter was going to be longer, but I split it into 2when I realised the next part deserved its own section._

_I don't own Ratchet or his universe._

**Xxxxxx**

I should've told Clank where I was going. Then again if I told him he would've wanted to come with me, and I didn't really want him close to a place where this murdering psycho could still be hanging around. Then again I guess I could've left a note or something letting him know where I'd gone. But then again he'd be annoyed that I didn't take him with me. Besides, leaving a note made it seem like I was doing something sneaky. I wasn't being sneaky about this at all. I wasn't trying to do stuff behind his back because I didn't want him involved. I mean I _didn't_ want him involved but that's not why I went out alone.

I sighed and stopped trying to rationalise it to myself. I was being stupid about this and I knew it. But enough was too much already. I'd been trying to ignore this whole murder business as best as I could but I couldn't take sitting back and not doing anything any longer. Believe it or not I wasn't questioning Planetary defence's ability to handle this or anything like that. I'm pretty sure they were doing whatever it was they usually did, but I'm just more use to a hands on approach to bad things happening. Especially when it's happening in my own backyard. There was the whole robot thing too if you really wanna shrink my head about it. I admit, I've destroyed an uncountable number of robots in my time when they got in my way... but it wasn't the same. Or at least that's what I was trying to convince myself of. I just shot at things that shot at me first. End of story. This guy however... obviously had some kind of vendetta.

I hated myself for it a little bit, but when Clank pointed out that both robots that'd been attacked were older models I relaxed a little. Clank was just over 10 years old, or maybe just under. It's hard to keep track of exact dates when you galaxy hop as much as we have in the past few years. The point is, Clank's still young as far as robots go. If this psycho was only going after the older guys it meant my pal was probably safer than I'd first thought. And I hated myself for finding relief in that fact. 10 years and I'm just as selfish as I was when I was in my teens apparently.

But this new attack, this wasn't looking so good. There was more than one victim for one thing. This immediately made me worry. Were they both older models? If they weren't did the victims who weren't older models differ in any way to how they were attacked? Is the whole 'attacking older models' thing complete garbage that was just a coincidence with the first two victims?

I landed Aphelion a block or so away and walked to the apartment building where this morning's robocides happened. It wasn't that far from our own apartment. That made my fur stand on end. The entrance to the building was, understandably, cordoned off with the same electronic tape as the TV shoot'd been. There were more cops around too, but maybe it just seemed that way because of the more condensed scene than a big set they'd had to cover. This also meant they'd have better security on the crime scene and better control. I noticed there were less people milling around behind the tape. There were some on-field reporters covering the situation and a handful of people who were being allowed into the building who looked like they probably lived there.

Everyone looked on edge and skittish. If I tried to make another entrance like I did at Clank's set I'd probably get arrested on the spot. Either that or shot by a nervous inhabitant mistaking me for the psycho. So this was gonna have to be done the hard way. Maybe bringing Clank along would've been a good idea after all.

I walked up to the break in the tape where 2 cops were acting as guards, checking people's I.D. As they entered the building and constantly chattering into their communicators. I walked up to them, trying to look like I belonged there. The way they were acting, there wasn't gonna be any chance of me just waltzing past them, so I decided to make the first move.

"Planetary defence right?" I started, rather lamely. As long as it got the ball rolling I guess. They stopped the conversation they were having and both turned to fix me with hard, suspicious glares. They were both robots themselves. More like warbots actually. Repainted and refitted for defence duty. This was either gonna make things easier or harder.

"And who are you suppose to be, furball?" One of them almost literally growled at me.

Time to play the celebrity card and see if it was worth anything. "Name's Ratchet. I was affiliated with the Galactic Rangers in Solana."

The two oversized bots exchanged glances. I couldn't be sure but I thought I saw the light of recognition in one of their faces. After their wordless exchange they glared back at me.

"What do you want kid? You know we've got a crime scene to guard, right?"

"Yeah about that." I decided to play my hand and hoped it worked. "I've been keeping up with reports on these attacks and I was thinking I'd see if I could get some more info and try to help."

It didn't take a brilliant mind to see at least one of the cops took offence to this, as if I'd just openly said they weren't doing their jobs right. The other seemed able to control himself better but the blue light for eyes still narrowed at me in annoyance.

"You're seriously saying that we, The Planetary Defence Squad, should let some 4 foot runt off the street just stroll onto our crime scene and start poking around?"

I bit back the urge to correct him that I was actually 5'2" and kept a calm face instead. "I know it's not exactly by the book or whatever, but I've dealt with a lot of psychos and even more machines, robots and things you're not even gonna believe me on. I just thought with the whole... multiple galaxy saving thing and being a pretty good mechanic, I could maybe take a look." I put on a more serious face. "This thing is getting bigger isn't it? If I can get a jump on this early, maybe I can help before things get out of hand."

"I'd watch what I was insinuating space rat!" The insulted cop hissed at me dangerously. "Planetary Defence are in charge of handling crimes and passing judgement!"

"Hang on a sec Phys." His partner said thoughtfully. "The kid has a point, and if he can give some kind of help it might be worth our time letting him in."

"Oh you've gotta be kidding!" The insulted cop named Phys gave a mocking laugh as he turned to face the other robot. "So now we're just letting anyone who wanders past walk onto a crime scene because 'hey! They're a really swell guy'?!"

"He _has_ helped Galactic Authorities with criminals before," The other cop reasoned. "and with his track record I think it might be ok to let the guy at least see what's going on up there."

"That's all I want." I interrupted. "Just lemme take one look and I'll get lost. I'm not asking to get in on the case or anything. I just wanna see where this could be going, if anywhere."

"Better safe than sorry, right?" The guy in my favour said, turning to give Phys a stern, pointed look. It wasn't so much trying to convince his partner as it was discussing a grim fact. Something about it set me on edge a little.

Phys made a noise of submittal and stepped aside, glaring hard at me. "4th floor. You touch nothing, you take nothing, hell you don't even go into the room, understand? You look, you tell our crew whatever you think you can figure out and then I want your ass out of this place and I better not see you again for a long, loooong time! Understand?"

"Alright alright." I said, quickly stepping across the invisible line and into the building. "I get the picture. In and out, I swear."

"You so much as breathe on the wrong part of the wallpaper and I'm dragging you to HQ myself!" He barked his last threat as I hurried through the building's lobby, heading straight for the elevator and hitting the 4th floor's button.

The doors closed in front of me and I let out a huff of a breath. Usually I really didn't care what people said if I knew they were just blowing steam, but the cop's little show of bravado was just one little thing on top of the dread I was already feeling. After personally hearing Clank's description of the first crime scene and then hearing the follow-up scenes described on TV, I wasn't looking forward to what I was walking into. But I had to see it. I had to find out if I could do something to put a stop to all of this.

The elevator dinged and I pulled myself together as I walked out and down the hallway. The cop named Phys hadn't given me any directions apart from '4th floor' but he didn't have to. The hallway was full of official types. Most of them wearing uniform of whatever subsection of Planetary Defence they were from. Some of them looked to be the more studious crime-lab types than the over-powered defenders. The only people who weren't uniformed were what looked like people who actually lived in the building. Their skittish body language and scared expressions giving them away.

Walking through the hallway, in civvies and wearing a mask of determination, it wasn't long before someone wearing a black jacket with some or other acronym on it hurried over to me, flanked by a larger looking cop. An Agorian I noticed. Oh dear.

The smaller official in the black jacket was a markazian. An annoyed markazian.

"Hey, who are you?!" He said once he got close enough. The Agorian merely sneered down at me which, granted, meant he hadn't tried to hit me yet which was a good start as far as Agorians went.

"Ratchet." I said, not bothering to elaborate. "I thought maybe I could take a look at what happened and see if I can help."

"He was cleared by Phys at the door." The agorian leaned forward to tell him as if this would somehow stop me from hearing him.

The markazian made a noise and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. "Alright alright ok!"He then turned to frown at me again. He looked me up and down once before he turned, waving a hand over his shoulder. "Follow me."

I fell into step behind him as he led me down a few turns, the agorian following behind and watching me closely.

"Name's Reeloh. I'm in charge of the scene until someone with a bigger paycheque shows up to take over." The Markazian said to the air in front of him. "The walking boulder behind you is Pawk."

Pawk grunted.

"I'm guessing you've heard what's been happening if you've decided to crash the scene." Reeloh went on. It seemed he wasn't so much annoyed at me being there as he was just annoyed in general.

I nodded. "Been following the news. Plus the first attack happened on my pal's film set."

"The first 'murder'." He corrected me rather bluntly. "Or at leas the first we know of. This kind of thing rarely just starts from nothing. Anyway, seeing as we've had reporters flocking the scene since this morning you probably know the bare details already."

"There was another atta- erm... murder here and there was more than one victim. The press said it was probably the same person as the first two so I'm guessing it's... not the cleanest crime scene."

"You could say that." Reeloh said through a clenched jaw. "There were 3 victims this time. Killed in different ways but all with the same damage done to them afterwards, like the first two."

"Wait what?" I took a double step as I walked. "'Damage done afterwards'? What's that mean?"

"The mess the killer made of each scene wasn't the act of murder itself." Reeloh explained. "Each time he's killed the victim and then afterwards would cut into their chest areas to remove something. By the looks of it without the use of proper tools or equipment. All robots in question were physically pried open from the outside and their 'inner workings' if you will, torn out and carried away. Why, we don't know."

I listened, dumbstruck. I was already sickened by what I'd been hearing on the news, but now I could feel my stomach actually turn. The dread I felt earlier about seeing what'd happened grew, and I could feel my steps becoming hesitant.

"Second thoughts about coming, space-rat?" Pawk behind me grunted in a way that could've been a laugh. I said nothing, my frown hardening.

Reeloh led us to a door which several more official types were scurrying in and out of. Outside of it was a thing that looked a little like a hovering file cabinet. Some of the bookish types were opening up some of the thin drawers and placing round, glassy containers into it, filled with things from the scene. There were at least 3 or 4 other cops as well, watching as if they expected someone to pounce out of the non-existing shadows at any second.

Reeloh paid them no attention as he simply walked through the doorway and into the room. I swallowed at the ball of concrete that'd formed in my throat. I could hear the same grunting laugh from Pawk behind me but I ignored him. With a last mental pep-talk I turned and followed him, finally seeing the scene for myself.

I'd normally use some kind of understatement to describe it, but somehow just calling it 'unpleasant' or 'messy' wasn't enough of a bad joke to take away the sting of what I saw. All 3 robot victims were in the large living room of the modest apartment. Two of them were large, bulky, and old looking. The paint on their steel more chipped away than intact, with hinges and screws that even at first glance I could tell rattled and creaked when they moved. Or when they use to move. They looked like warbots. Old warbots. Probably very intimidating and lethal a few hundred years ago, but would now look ridiculous holding a gun of any kind.

The third victim was not a warbot. She also wasn't old. She was small. Not as small as Clank, but shorter than I was. Her torso, legs and arms were spindly and thin, made mostly out of a support structure for cables and more delicate wirings to curl around. Her arms didn't even have casings, leaving these vulnerable wires exposed. Most of her mass was in her head, which was very large and taken up mostly by two, oval shaped eyes that stared greyly out from the black, polished steel. One of them was cracked.

The small torso of the fembot, as well as the barrel shaped bodies of the two warbots, were badly damaged. Steel and metal had been cut into and pried open with enough force to bend the material outwards, leaving a gaping wound to the more vital mechanisms inside. Along with the damaged metal there were twisted copper cables, black, striated tubes and broken shards of computer-boards, circuitry and all the other, small, clockwork-like mechanics that made up the robot body. Thick, dark liquid that had a rainbow-esque shine to it in the light, pooled on most of the ground, seeping into the woven carpet. The same liquid lay sprayed across the nearest furniture, covering the rather tacky floral patterns and staining the wooden cabinets and end-tables.

"The old warbots were offed first." Reeloh's voice cut through my thoughts as he rounded the victims, checking on the various investigators that up until now I almost hadn't noticed. "The first one was hit with some kind of EMP to shut him down, the second was run through with something in the right shoulder before he was hit by an EMP too, probably from the thing that stuck him. The little one was merely struck in the head. Her casing wasn't made for fighting so it didn't take much. Whatever was pulled out was done the same way for all of them. Nothing else in the apartment was taken or even disturbed, making us believe the victims themselves were the targets."

I stared at the scene in front of me, the image feeling as if it was sucking into me.

"So, Galactic hero, d'you make anything of it?"

I blinked about 4 times in a row very quickly as I forced myself back to the present. "Any idea what was..." I grimaced. "..taken?"

"An internal power supply." Reeloh answered, not having to think about it for too long. He waved at one of the investigators who picked up an electronic clipboard and handed it over. Reeloh scrolled through it for a second. "Same as the last two victims. We thought maybe it had something to do with the make or style of it but the little one here throws a monkey-wrench into that theory. All the other victims were older types you see."

I gave a stiff nod."Yeah I know. What brand was it?"

"We haven't been able to figure that out yet. The four older robots were all assembled by companies or people who're either no longer around or defunct and don't have records any-more. Maybe the little one will be able to help us out there. She can't be that old so hopefully we can find her serial number and track down her factory." Reeloh went on, still scrolling through his clipboard.

I nodded again at this, turning back to the mess or hardware in front of me. Maybe I was calming down, or maybe I was just blocking it out, but the shock was wearing off and my brain was starting to spin its wheels.

I walked over to the nearest robot, one of the warbots, and squatted down next to an investigator who was busy picking up bits of screw from the carpet. I squinted at the hole made in the guy's chest. Reeloh had said whoever did this didn't have complex tools, but he had to have had _something._ Organic hands would never be able to cut and bend metal that way. I turned my attention to the wires instead. I noticed unlike the steel casing, the wires had been carefully cut away from whatever had been taken. It wasn't just ripped out but almost surgically removed. I forgot my squeamishness and leaned over to look inside the chest cavity. There was damage done to most on the interior, but only a handful of wires had been cut. I counted each one of them, listing out on my fingers the type, style, name and make-up of each of them. Once I'd checked myself a few times over I got up and went to the second warbot, checking his wires as well.

He'd had a different manufacturer by the looks of it, but despite the wires and circuits coming from a different factory, the ones that'd been cut seemed to serve similar if not identical functions. Lastly, I went over to the fembot, checking her as well.

I was surprised by what I found. Despite her metallic casing and over-all build being much newer and in better condition than the other two, the parts she was made of were all brands and production lines that were either pretty old or at the very least, outdated. And yet none of them seemed to come from the _same_ brand or production-line. It only took a few minutes for me to realise what I had was something I'd call a 'garage-job' if I was dealing with a starship. The fembot didn't come off a production line or a factory, but had been built by hand by some-one. And by the looks of her innards, some-one on a budget.

I checked her wiring as well, giving it a second and third look before I got up and went back over to Reeloh.

"So what's the lombax think?" He asked, although whether he was being serious or skeptical about my species' reputation I wasn't sure.

"Well, you're not gonna find the girl's factory." I said, hooking my thumbs into my belt. "She doesn't have one. She's a hand-made." Reeloh swore to himself. "The two warbots are more or less from the same production time period." I went on. "And whoever built the girl didn't exactly have money to burn. She's been made out of bargain-bin parts that're probably so out of date I doubt she was able to upgrade her software any more."

Reeloh frowned at this as he listened. He snapped his fingers at some-one behind him who pulled out another clipboard and started tapping away at it as I talked, taking notes.

"So what does that tell you Lombax?" He asked, looking back and forth between the 3 victims.

"Robots aren't my specialty." I said. "I tend to stick to Starships and guns. But with their wiring and where they've been cut, they probably all had the same kind of internal power. D'you have any paper?"

He gave me a sideways look at the change of topic but tapped his clipboard's screen a few times before handing it to me, a blank page displayed on it. I took it, pulling its stylus out from its holder on the side and starting to scribble a very rough draft.

"So, with cables, wires, circuit-boards, Servos and amps, they probably all had the same kind of power supply, even if it wasn't the exact same model." I handed the clipboard back with my rough technical drawing of the thing. "They don't make 'em like that any-more, but a few older robots still use 'em."

Reeloh frowned at the sketch I'd made so hard it was probably gonna leave a mark. "Any idea when they stopped making them like this?"

I thought for a moment. "Not really sure. Like I said I'm not a robot guy. It's been a while though. I haven't seen any of these for sale new before."

Reeloh gave a nod at this although he looked far from satisfied. I stood in silence as he thought all this over. I myself was putting together a mental picture in my mind of what this piece of hardware looked like, trying to remember if I'd seen anything similar recently. A foggy image came back to me from a few days ago when I was shopping for replacement parts to an old cloudburster someone'd brought in for me to fix. I'd gone to a second-hand store that specialised in engine parts you couldn't get retail anymore. I'd only gone there for ship parts before, but somewhere in the back of my mind there was an itch, telling me I'd seen other things for sale beyond that.

I turned back to Reeloh. "I think I've seen enough. I can't think of anything else you guys can't see or figure out yourselves."

Reeloh nodded again but this time with more focus on the real world. "We'll look into this power-supply thing. You might've given us a thread worth following."

I gave a submissive shrug, brushing off the compliment. Reeloh gave me a gruff word of goodbye before Pawk hustled over and led me back to the elevator. He didn't say much more than 'this way' or 'Left up ahead.' but that suited me fine. I didn't feel in the mood to talk any more. I got in the elevator and pressed the button for the lobby, Pawk staying in the doorway to make sure I was leaving.

After the doors closed in front of me and I found myself alone, a chill seemed to set in on me. It started on the skin of my upperarms and seemed to seep into the muscle below it, working its way up my shoulders and to the back of my neck. I gave my arms a rub, trying to shake it off. The elevator doors opened and I left the building, giving the two cops at the doorway nothing more than a passing glance as I went.

The sun was already high and I gladly soaked in the warmth, walking briskly to where I'd parked Aphelion. Away from the building and the things inside it.

There were other things to focus on. The second-hand hardware store was about 20 minutes away from where I was. If I left right away I could catch the owner as he was coming back from lunch. That is if he didn't decide to take an extra hour.

I reached Aphelion and climbed into her cockpit. I didn't bother setting coordinance. I knew the route well enough to fly manually. Besides, flying would help take my mind off of... well it would give me something to focus on.

_I suppose it was not a very pleasant sight was it?_ Aphelion said after a few minutes.

"You could say that." I sighed. "Got something to go on though, so it was worth it."

_If you believe so then that's good._ She answered, sounding satisfied.

"Yeah It was worth it." I said again, although I didn't know who I was trying to convince.

**Xxxxxx**

_Please R&R so I can keep going with this, and thank you for being patient with my updates :)We're not gonna be hanging out with the police in the rest of the story, don't worry._


	5. The Chase

_Uuuugh. Sorry it's taken me so long to update guys ;_; As I said I'm working full time and I usually take 4 hours or so to get in the proper headspace for writing. I don't always have that time so writing can take a little longer (not including editing and whatnot)_

_Anyway, enough excuses, here's the next chapter. :) Things pick up from here. This isn't gonna be as slow-paced as 'Breaking And Entering'._

**Xxxxxx**

Traffic was heavy at the end of lunch hour, but that suited me fine. Luckily, the raw images in my mind were starting to lose their edge and I was feeling better. Broken robots weren't exactly a new sight to me, sadly not even broken robots who _didn't_ try and shoot me first, but it still wasn't something I liked to see. The trip to the hardware dealer took twice the time I thought it would but we got there eventually. I set Aphelion down and headed for the entrance, passing a leaving customer on the way. I pushed open the door which let out a digital jingle, distorted with age. The pudgy store-owner turned and gave me a hairy smile through his moustache as he recognised me.

"Welcome back sir." He warbled anciently at me. "What can I do for you today? New power coupling? Fuel converter? Cooling hub sealer?"

"Actually, I'm looking for something else." I said, glancing over the rows of oil-stained shelves covered with loose piles of metallic parts and pieces.

"Got something specialised in mind enh?" The man's thick, goggle-like glasses almost glinted in anticipation. "Well if you can give me the details I can see what I got. What're you working on? Domestic ship, as usual?"

"I'm looking for a robotic part today." I said, leaning on the counter, ignoring whatever sticky liquid I'd put my elbow in.

"Well, got plenty of those too!" The man went on without skipping a beat. "This for that buddy of your's enh? Hard to find parts for custom jobs but I think I can-"

"No, no I'm looking for something erm... older."

"Oh? There's a new one for you. What d'you have in mind?" He grinned at me again.

"I'm looking for a power-supply, the kind the older warbots used. Something you can't get new any more, but there's still some older models who can't afford to upgrade to the newer stuff that use 'em, so I know it can't be impossible to find. You got anything like that?"

The store owner frowned behind his frames as he thought, rubbing his chin with an enormous, gloved hand. "There's a few of those still floating around, but I know a favourite of the older warbots was the Tarby 2600. Just had one actually. Durable thing that tended to last too long for the manufacturer's good. Unless it broke, then it was _broke_. If you've got someone who's needing one it's better to just get the whole thing replaced with something that you can actually fix! Not all 'bots can take the newer stuff but if you bring the guy in I'm sure I can find something that-"

"Just the Tarby will be fine thanks." I gave the guy a lopsided grin.

"Well see, that's where we've got a problem, just sold my last one. But as I said I can give you a newer model if you can tell me what kind of robot you wanna-"

"No thanks." I pushed off the counter, brushing off what turned out to be some gelatonium from my elbow. "Any other places you know where I can find one?"

"Only if that includes the rust-buckets running them." He gave a scratchy sounding laugh. "There's been a buy-out of them lately. Some joker's been cleaning out the entire area of the stuff."

"You know, you coulda told me that when you first mentioned the thing." I grumbled at this news. "Besides, didn't you say you just had one?"

"Sure, but that one I had to get special order. Gent who picked it up's been anxious to get a hold of it for a while now. Heard he's the one who cleared out Flashbic's supply last week."

Something tugged at the back of my mind. "Did he say what it was for?"

"Nah, just walked in with the name and make, ready to go. Guy obviously did his homework. My job is to sell the stuff. It's none of my business if they walk in knowing what they want." His caterpillar eyebrows rose slightly as he peered at me over his glasses. "Speaking of which, are you sure I can't-"

"When'd he come pick it up?" I asked before he could get further.

"Just before you came in. Probably passed you on the way out."

I twisted my head to look out the store's grime-smeared glass front at the parking lot. Aphelion stood where I'd left her. There hadn't been any other ships when I landed either.

"D'you know where he lives?" I asked although I could guess the answer. I started heading the door as I spoke.

"Said he'd come pick the thing up himself so I didn't get an address." He leaned over the counter to watch me.

"Nevermind, I'll catch him on foot." I said as I pushed open the door, the jingle seeing me out.

I took a look around once I was outside. I remembered passing the guy when I first got there; He was a robot, kinda tall and lanky looking. I didn't really care enough to get a good look at him at the time. Last I saw he was going what was now my right, down a street following the curve of the high-rises, away from the traffic flows above and around me. I broke into a run, hoping I could still catch him.

What exactly I was gonna ask if I managed to find him again I didn't know, but right now he seemed too suspicious for me to ignore. With my luck he probably just collected really old robot parts. But whatever his reason was, I needed that power supply. If all the victims so far had their's ripped out, I had to find out if they were using this model of it.

The walkway curved into a residential area. More people were mingling around and walking down it as I ran. I tried to get a good look at everyone I passed but none of them rang any bells. I kept going straight, hoping the guy hadn't gone in any of the apartment buildings or down a side-street. Luckily there weren't any taxi hubs or places he could've gotten into a ship. People grumbled at me as I nudged passed them or had to side-step a little too close as they crossed the walkway in front of me.

I slowed my pace to a trot, still looking around for the guy who'd apparently disappeared into thin air. I was starting to think to myself what a dumb idea this was and just what kind of chance I had finding him again after he'd gotten a huge start on me. I slowed to a brisk walk, giving the people I passed careful glances. I'd wandered into what you would call a 'close-knit community'. The buildings were built closer together and the walkway had become narrower as it twisted between them. Most of the area was in shade from the high-rises surrounding the place. I got a few strange looks but no-one seemed too interested in what I was doing there. I thought about asking some-one if they'd seen the guy I was trying to tail but I immediately changed my mind. Whether this was the swanky city of Luminopolis or not, those faces told me exactly what kind of loyalties I was gonna find here. I sped up my pace again.

Following the walkway straight started looking like a dumb idea too. It was getting even narrower and the buildings surrounding it were less and less dotted by the ever-present neon and orb-like lights that gave the city its name. Pedestrians became scarce and apartment buildings started getting replaced by storage used by nearby stores who could afford that kind of thing. I eventually had to admit to myself that I'd lost the guy and stopped to get a better bearing of where I was.

As I turned to go back the way I'd come, I noticed a glint off something metallic. Frowning, I turned forward again. A little way in front of me the walkway turned to the left between a building and a transparent barrier that was looking worse for wear. On the other side of it, climbing over a storage crate I saw a robot. He was tall and lanky looking, the metal on his limbs painted a dark navy as was his sleek head. He was carrying something under an arm as he climbed.

I broke into a run, coming to a stop only for a second at the barrier before I found the crack he must've used before squeezing through and chasing after him. He'd already cleared the crate and was climbing over the side of another barrier, dropping to the ground.

"Hey you!" I called as I ran. "Hold up!"

The figure snapped his mantis-like head in my direction. The long, thin visor for eyes narrowed at me before he turned and bounded away without a single word.

"Wait! I wanna talk to you!" I sped up, jumping the cargo crate before springing over the second barrier, hitting the ground on all fours before bouncing myself back into a run.

The guy had put a few yards between us, his long insectile legs giving him a wider step than me. He'd already reached a collection of stacked crates against a warehouse wall when I'd gotten back to my feet. He jumped, his free hand shooting out and gouging into the metal container as he hoisted himself up onto it before he started scaling the others with sharp, pincer like hands.

"Would you hold up?!" I yelled, getting irritated.

I jumped the crate and followed his path to the roof. I was the better climber as I'd almost completely cleared the distance between us when he got to stand on his feet again on the flat roof. I grabbed the edge of it, pulling myself up as he twisted in place to look down at me. Seeing I wasn't giving up he broke into his run again, running the length of the roof and jumping the gap between it and the next one.

I growled to myself as I chased after him. At least he didn't look like he could fly or hover. He sprinted ahead of me, the piece of hardware clutched tightly under an arm as he jumped the next roof, a pincer burying itself into the side of an elevator shaft and tearing a seam in the thin metal before he started scaling the rest of it, using his claw like a climbing pick.

I reached the building edge, hesitated for a moment as I judged the distance then made the jump. I clamped my fingers around one of the ornate rings surrounding the shaft as I hit the wall before climbing after him.

"I just wanna know about that power supply! Is it really worth all this?"

He yelled nothing back as he disappeared over the edge of the roof above me. I followed, sometimes using the gashes he'd torn into the metal as footholds. He kept running, jumping various air duct outlets, ornate lights and lumenoid conduits as he went. It was hard keeping him in sight, let alone try to corner him. He seemed to know the city better than I did. Often he would make what looked like a suicide jump only for me to spot him crouching on the edge of some hidden ledge or using the cables and rods of the many thousands of lights to lead him to somewhere he could stand again. I more climbed than ran after him, but soon he was putting more distance between us than I could cover. Also, I was getting out of breath, a drawback he obviously didn't have.

Something that struck me as weird as I stopped to try to see where he'd jumped to, was that despite the fact that we were at a part of the city with heavy traffic again, the guy never flagged down a cab or made any other moves towards using a ship to get away. I didn't have much time to mull this over as I caught sight of him again, using a railing of lights to slide himself to a glass, domed roof. I ignored the burn in my lungs as I chased after him, switching between gear for the grindrail as I did so. I already knew the chase was over though. I was starting to wonder if this guy even had a clear direction he was going or if he was deliberately trying to tire me out. If that was his plan it was obviously working. My knees felt like they were trying to lock up on me and my throat felt like sandpaper.

By now, he was just a blueish metallic glint that sprung out every few moments ahead of me. Clear enough to give me a way to follow but without any chance of me catching up any more. I caught one last glance of him throwing himself over the edge of a walkway before he disappeared completely. I continued my chase blindly for a few more minutes before I finally had to admit I'd been beat.

I came to a stop, almost immediately doubling over to try to catch my breath, my knees shaking against my hands as I puffed. My helmet felt glued to my head while my gloves had apparently gotten way too big and felt like they were gonna slip off at any second. I could feel the blood in my hands throb in time to my pulse. I straightened again as I took one last, hopeless glance at where I thought I'd seen the robot disappear before I sighed, sinking in place.

I then turned my attention to a problem I'd not thought about until now; where the heck he'd led me to. We were far from the storage houses by now and the neighbourhood was once again more upmarket and populated by vehicles and people mingling around the walkways, both on and below the level I was. I tried to pick out landmarks in the city's skyline to orient myself. I was surprised when I found a familiar clock tower and the spire of a large bank's headquarters, realising I was a block, maybe a block and a half from my apartment which was a level above me.

I frowned, looking around again. I wondered why he'd run to this part of the city and more specifically, this neighbourhood. There was a lot more foot traffic on all levels here, and more ships that made jumping buildings harder. There was also a lot more in the way of lighting, meaning more things to climb. Maybe that's all it was, but it was a little too convenient for me. It would take me less than 15 minutes to walk home from where I was.

My eyes narrowed as I checked the area around me again, this time out of paranoia. People were moving past me, some turning to give me bored glances before turning to the front again. No-one seemed interested in me standing there in the middle of the walkway, still breathing hard. Part of me expected some kind of brute warbot to materialise and slam a fist into me, but there was no sign of strange movement from any-one. Traffic flowed like normal, people moved like normal.

I took a long breath again, my heart not pounding as much. It seemed too easy. Too much of a coincidence. I felt like I was being baited. Maybe it was just paranoia. Maybe it was one too many bad experiences. But I didn't like it.

Eventually, I turned and started walking, not the way home but towards a circular point in the walkway were several of them connected and broke off from each other again. I found one of the many flower-beds and sat down on its edge, folding my elbows on my knees and resting my chin on my hands.

I then waited.

What had become late afternoon started turning into dusk as I sat, casually watching people stroll past. They grew less and less as the many many lights of the city started turning on, changing the overall silvery buildings into vast towers of blue and purple. The city didn't exactly have any point during the night where it became quiet, but the stream of people still thinned out and trying to hide in a crowd stopped being an option. Of course stronger shadows and more dark corners meant lots of places to hide, but that worked both ways, and I can squeeze into corners and cracks easier than other people.

I got up, making a show of dusting myself off as if in no hurry. My throat and chest was on fire, demanding water as my legs protested being used again. I ignored all of it as I turned and started taking the long way home.

By the time I'd rode an elevator up a level and started walking the last path leading to our apartment it was properly nighttime. I climbed the stair-ramp and, turning to take a last look around for any obvious gawkers, went inside. I let out a deep sigh as I closed the door behind me, sliding down it as I finally allowed myself to let my guard down. Seemed like it really was paranoia and not some mass scheme to follow me home. I felt like an idiot. I got up again, undoing my harness half-heartedly as I headed for the kitchen.

"Have you any idea how long you have been gone?" a slightly annoyed voice greeted me.

"Stuff happened." I waved a hand at Clank as I passed the living room.

He pushed himself off the couch, trotting after me. "Nothing too risky I hope. Did you discover anything interesting?"

"Kinda. More like weird if you ask me." I said, finally getting a glass and filling it up before knocking it back. It took me one breath to finish the entire thing.

"Weird strange or weird 'this seems like trouble'?"

"Don't really know. Bit of both maybe." I said as I refilled my glass.

"Weird enough to get a workout out of you." He commented as I knocked the second glass back as well. "I do hope you have not increased our debt out to the city's repair fund."

"No, no shooting. I just got a lot of running done." I put the glass down as I left the kitchen again. "Speaking of which I better contact Aphelion and tell her to fly herself home."

"I would like to hear what spurred you into running on foot rather than flying." Clank said as he followed.

"Lemme just lock up first then I'll give you a complete recap."

"Is something wrong?" He frowned at me, looking concerned.

I shook my head. "Nope. Just... a bit of lingering paranoia."

"Oh dear..." He mumbled to himself. "Those are the worst kind."

"I'll sleep it off."

"No. I meant those are the kind that usually turn out to be well founded."

"Great thing to tell me before bed, pal."

**Xxxxxx**

_Please let me know of any typos or mistakes I might've made._

_Also, comments and reviews are love :) help keep me motivated please!_


	6. Guest

_Once again, sorry for slow updates x_x I'm working which takes a lot of time. This fic is far from abandoned though so don't worry, I promise :)_

_P.S. How exciting is the news of the R&C movie?!_

_Don't own anything except the things I made up._

**Xxxxxx**

Although Ratchet's recap of his day was very intriguing, I felt his concerns at being followed home were a little unfounded. I admit that being led back to our own neighbourhood was a little suspect, but the events of the day sounded more to me as if the robot he had chased was legitimately trying to get away from him. After all, he had not waited for Ratchet to start following him once he had this power supply, but had continued on his way. He had only started to run when Ratchet called out to him, if Ratchet's account was accurate which I trusted it was. I try my best never to chalk things up to pure coincidence if I can help it, but in this case I felt the motives did not line up. Trying to convince Ratchet of this proved a little difficult. When the night passed without any incident and we woke as normal the next day however, he seemed satisfied.

The next day passed rather uneventfully. Ratchet made a call to Planetary Defence Headquarters and relayed what he had learned regarding the power supply, but that seemed to be the end of the matter for now. I was glad. I was ready to be done with the unpleasant business and leave it up to someone with authority and experience to handle. I do not mean to sound heartless or cold towards those affected by the series of events, but I did not see how the two of us could really do more than trained detectives and investigators. I was hopeful that Ratchet was following my line of thinking.

"I do hope you are not planning to invade another crime scene." I said later the afternoon as I watched him dismantle one of his pistols.

"No new crime scenes to invade." He answered absently as he felt around for one of the more delicate tools on his work-bench.

"Implying if there were, you would be invading it." I frowned, crossing my arms in disapproval.

"Not what I said."

"Neither is it what you _didn't_ say."

He sighed, clicking a part back into place as he sat up. "Alright alright. If it makes you feel better I don't think I'm gonna wanna see another scene like yesterday's for a long time. Ok?"

I said nothing but was satisfied with the answer.

"Besides, after the stuff I learned I don't feel so twitchy about the whole thing any more." He went on as he worked. "a Lot of it only sunk in this morning but I think I got some things sorted out that were bugging me."

"Anything in particular?" I asked out of curiosity.

"Nah just... stuff. Little things." He answered dismissively. I took the hint and dropped the subject. We sat silently for a few minutes as he continued to focus on his work.

"Perhaps we should think about a trip." I said eventually. "We haven't been doing a lot of traveling for a while now and I find myself getting tired of the city. Or perhaps just Luminopolis. Did I tell you one of those horrid Luminoids snapped at me the other day when I was out on some errands? I fail to see how using them as a power-source is so much better than conventional methods."

"I think it's better for the planet's environment or something. Hand me a pin holder."

I slid the piece of metal closer. "I am sure there are other ways to power a city that does not require using vermin."

"Not a technician pal, just a mechanic. Where d'you wanna go anyway?" He took the pin holder without looking up.

"Perhaps somewhere sunny. Not too arid though. I am not overly fond of getting sand in my diodes."

"We could go to Merdegraw. They like me there."

"Isn't that the place you told me was over-run with robotic pirate ghosts?"

"Yeah, but I took care of 'em." He said, smiling to himself.

"Well regardless of that, I would prefer going somewhere where I do not have to worry about salt water damaging my finish."

"Oh, you know where might be a good idea?" he said, waggling a tool at me. "Bundaberg."

"And what is there?" I asked cautiously.

"They sell root beer in glass bottles."

I waited for a few moments before I realised that that was in fact the only thing worth mentioning apparently. "And?"

"And nothing. They got root beer in glass bottles." He gave me an annoying grin. "We use to get stuff like that back on Veldin a while ago, before they switched over to the more durable stuff. I don't think glass handles off-world importing too great."

"So... you want to visit this planet, based solely on the fact that they sell sodas in glass bottles there." I said flatly, making sure I was following this crazy logic.

"D'you know how long it's been since I had one of those?" He went on, still grinning as he locked the chamber back into place. "I didn't even know you still got 'em, until I saw some shmuck on TV getting interviewed about a flying Spaghetti monster who was drinking one."

"First of all, I hardly feel that is worth basing an entire trip on. Second of all, what exactly do you _watch_ when I am not around, and third... what?"

"Aw come on." He got up to put the weapon away. "You said you wanna get away from Luminopolis right? If you don't really care where you wanna go, besides the sand and seawater thing, why not?"

I was defeated. You could not argue logic with a completely insane train of thought. "Well I suppose it is as good a place as any."

"Think if we buy a crate they'd survive the trip back here?"

I pulled a face at him. "Does the glass really make that big a difference in taste?"

"Nah, it's pretty much the same."

I could feel a headache start to form so I just let the topic go.

* * *

I woke up while it was still dark. Or rather, I woke up when the light outside was still coming from the Luminoid grubs rather than the sun. I was not sure as to the exact time, but by my own inner clock, for lack of a better word, I judged it to be more accurately described as 'early' rather than 'late'. I could not decide if trying to power down again and recharge myself for a short time longer would be worth it or if I should just get up and start my morning. I was not really in the habit of waking up while it was still nighttime. I wondered if perhaps I was in need of some fluids and that is why I woke up. Deciding to get a can from the kitchen I climbed down from my bunk and headed down the hallway.

There was a slight chill to the air and I wondered if winter was on its way to this part of the planet. With all of its infrastructure it was sometimes difficult to tell seasonal changes unless you made an effort to keep track of them. I opened the lower cabinet where Ratchet had stacked my various cans and canisters and found something basic to drink. The sound of the closing door made a momentary noise which puzzled me. I stared it, trying to figure out what may have caused a sound which to me did not seem like hinges or wood. The noise came again and I realised it was in fact an echo coming from another part of the apartment.

I stood frozen in place as I listened, straining my sensors as I tried to triangulate the origin of the sound. It was coming from the living room.

I placed the can on the floor next to me before I started heading towards it. The noise had been rather faint and I was not sure what to make of it. Perhaps one of those stupid grubs that power the city had gotten into the house again somehow. If so then I did not care how grumpy he was, I was going to drag Ratchet out of bed to get rid of it. I refused to get one of those things latched onto my head. Well, whatever it was, I could hear it moving around the room ahead of me. It sounded like it was going around in circles. I grumbled to myself as I entered with my hands fisted.

It was not a luminoid. Not even remotely so. As I had made little to no effort in hiding my entrance, the thing in the living room immediately spun to face me. A tall, insectile robot stared at me with an orange, singular visor. I could see the large, pincers for hands flex dangerously as it stared me down. The head was triangular, having what I could only describe as mandibles along its jaw.

I was completely thrown off at this. Apparently so was he, because we merely stared at each other for what could be considered an embarrassing amount of time before either of us moved. I shook off my initial surprise and glared at him, furious to find such an invasion in my home.

"If I do not hear a _very_ good explanation for this visit within the next minute I am afraid I will have to force you to leave!" I said, my hands locking on what I suppose one would call my 'waist'."

There was another moment of silence as he seemed to consider something. I narrowed my eyes, balling my fists again as an unsettled feeling started to grow in me.

"If you are considering whether it would be easier to just attack I would not recommend it." I said with more conviction. "Do not think because of my stature I do not hold the fire power to send you on your way!"

He seemed unimpressed. 'Go get Ratchet.' an inner voice said, but I was not sure making a sudden move and turning my back on the invader was in my best interests.

"You live here then?" The other robot spoke so suddenly it almost made me physically jump.

I quickly gathered my composure and glared at him. "I would think that much is obvious! Now I am going to ask you again-..."

"You're not the service droid are you?" He interrupted. I couldn't see a mouth, but the small feeler-like mandibles twitched when he spoke.

"No." I said flatly.

"Must've the wrong place." He said, giving the room around us quick, flickering glances before snapping his gaze back to me. "You wouldn't know where in the area I can find someone would you? Scrawny fellow. Furred I think. Either yellow or sandy coloured."

"Why? What do you want with him?" My eyes narrowed further.

"You know where he is then?" He took a step forward.

I shifted in place, not allowing myself to step back but not entirely able to take a stand either. I clamped my fist tighter. "What do you want with him?" I repeated, my tone sharp.

"Thing's been followin' me around. Thought I'd like to find out why." He continued to move forward. I could feel an inner tightening of gears the closer he got to me.

'Go get Ratchet' The voice urged me again but I ignored it. "So what if he has? I do not see how breaking into our home-" I realised my mistake too late.

The mandibles twitched as his eyes flashed. He broke his gaze away from me, looking over my head at the hallway behind me. "So this _is_ the right place."

I widened my stance as best I could. "You need to leave. Now."

The gaze slowly lowered to look me in the eye again, the visor narrowing. Something metallic in his shoulders started to click. "I don' think you oughto be givin' me orders mate." The words sounded casual but the tone of voice had a dangerous edge to it. "I don' have any gripes with you and I don' wanna make a mess if I don' have to."

I couldn't think of an appropriate reply, so I merely stood my ground, glaring at him as hard as I could. The insect-like clicking grew louder and more agitated.

"If you're really gonna insist to-" He took another step towards me.

My hands shot out towards him reflexively. There was a brief crackle of temporal energy before a burst of light launched itself towards the approaching threat. I'd caught him off-guard, but my own instinctive attack lacked focus and the other robot managed to throw himself flat to the ground milliseconds before the time-bomb passed where he had just been standing and slammed into the wall behind him, causing a wooden picture frame to sprout several sapling branches, complete with leaves. The invader almost threw himself down on top of me but I stumbled several steps backwards out of the way before he hit the floor. I kept my hands outstretched as I continued to glare at him, trying to mask my unease at the deteriorating situation.

The other robot took a moment to make sure no other attacks were coming before he turned to stare at the frame behind him, now in full bloom. He turned back to me, dumbfounded. I remained rooted in place, making sure it was clear I was more than willing to fire another if he made the wrong move.

He stared at me for what felt like an uncomfortable amount of time. Eventually he pushed himself to his feet again. The movement was slow and deliberate, as if he had merely tripped and was feeling slightly ashamed for it. Once he was upright again he took one last look at the frame before turning back to me, impatience replaced with curiosity. In truth I would have preferred intimidation.

"You're not exactly an 'off-the-shelf' model are you mate?" He said almost with awe.

"No. Now with that established, why are you looking for Ratchet?" I was relieved to hear my voice was not betraying my nerves.

He paused for a moment, staring at me in a new light before he spoke again. "The organic was following me two days ago. And I don' mean just tailin' me around the streets either. I wanna know why. I heard him say somethin' about the power supply I was carryin'." His visor narrowed. "I wanna know how deep his nose's been stuck into this."

"And what does that mean to you exactly?" I asked, shifting my position again slightly, making sure I was blocking the hallway behind me that lead to the kitchen, the armoury, and the bedrooms.

"Depends what my boss thinks. But if he don' like the answer I'm not bettin' a fig on your roommate's immediate future, so to speak."

The matter-of-fact tone this was said in sent a ripple of anger through me, although I suppressed it from showing on my face. "Then, for the last time, I would suggest you turn around and leave before I really lose my temper."

"No doubt mate." He replied, turning to look at the frame again. "He tune you up like that?"

I said nothing, my glare hardening.

He turned back to me. "You should talk to my boss. I think he'd like to have a chat with you himself at some point."

"Not interested." I said pointedly.

"Oh I dunno. You might wanna think about it. Boss's also a robot see. All of us are. An' with the little scheme he's got planned he'd probably like a mod like you on his side. Better than hangin' around here with organics ey? Even if they can install some mean weapons."

I tried to stop my hands from shaking. My growing anger at each insult mixed with the growing strain of keeping my arms outstretched were mounting.

"Mean weapons or not, the boss's got plans you'd like if you're into things like that. Real visionary he is. Like I said I really think you oughto see him at some stage." The mandibles twitched and something like an electronic purr grew in the air. I couldn't see the smile, but I could hear it in the thick layer of smugness that followed. "You ever hear of this thing called the 'Ersatz Cruet'?" He waited a moment but when I said nothing, continued. "Aw well, didn't know of it myself 'till the boss told me about it. Suggest you look it up, then maybe we'll talk again."

He started stepping backwards, although confidence still poured off of him. "Better you decide what you wanna do now before oil hits the fan mate." He shrunk down before vaulting upright, shooting through a perfectly circular hole cut into the metal of out ceiling I hadn't noticed. He peered down it from the next floor back at me. "You tell your roommate about our chat if you want. Tell 'im Ironon came for a visit. Won't matter eventually anyway."

He then slid out of sight, not waiting to hear any last remarks from me. I remained glued in place, staring at the hole above me for what felt like an hour. Eventually, I felt comfortable enough that he had left that I lowered my arms again. I rubbed one of them in discomfort as I felt tensed coils struggle to relax again. I stood silent a moment longer, processing what had just happened. When I again felt the urge to wake up Ratchet, I turned and ran to his room at a brisk pace. I hated it when people were deliberately vague, but one thing from what had just been said was crystal clear; Nothing good could come of this.

**Xxxxxx**

_My brother assures me glass bottled sodas are serious business._


End file.
